


What Matters

by murderofonerose (atmilliways)



Series: Dethentines 2021 [1]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Dethentines 2021, F/F, Giving the person you're trying not to get too attached to One Great Day, It got a little dark, Sorry for the ending, before they go off on a questionable mission, one-sided angst, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/pseuds/murderofonerose
Summary: The late evening air of Paris is clear and crisp as the two women exit the small museum shop that marks the end of the Catacombs tour, arm in arm.
Relationships: Lavona Succuboso/Trindle
Series: Dethentines 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151390
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	What Matters

**Author's Note:**

> **February 8 - A Romantic Getaway**

The late evening air of Paris is clear and crisp as the two women exit the small museum shop that marks the end of the Catacombs tour, arm in arm. 

“ _Well,_ Liebling _?_ ” the taller of the two asks in German as they cross the street. “ _Did you like it?_ ”

“ _It was_ **_fantastic_ ** _._ ” Her companion, who has a definite American accent, is absolutely beaming beneath her black, touristy beret. The studs in her nose and bottom lip glint silver in the streetlight. “ _I’ve never seen so many femurs and crania in one place before._ **_Thousands_ ** _of human skulls and bones. Skeletal remains of more than_ **_six million people_ ** _. You could just . . . feel the dead, all around you._ ” She sighed. “ _This entire trip has just been perfect, Lavona. I’m so happy you were able to take the time off._ ”

“ _Anything for you, Trin_ ,” she replies with an indulgent smile. “ _I wanted to make this trip special for you considering the sacrifice you’re about to make for the cause._ ”

“ _You’re doing an amazing job.”_ Trindle beams at the nickname, as she always does. “ _Where to next?_ ”

“Cantada II,” Lavona confirms. “I _t’s a heavy metal absinthe bar in the 11th arrondissement_.”

“Ooh. _So they’ll be playing. . . ?”_

“ _Almost definitely._ ”

Lavona watches her eyes light up at the prospect of drinking to Dethklok music, and knows deeper than bone that Trindle was the right choice. The young woman has the right history, the kind that the band’s manager won’t think twice about when he orders the inevitable background search: goth since middle school, tattooed and splashed all over social media photos of copious concerts from high school onwards, putting herself through life as a cosmetologist and esthetician. She is, by all accounts, a member of one of Dethklok’s many key demographics. 

Which is exactly why Succuboso Explosion had reached out to her in the first place. She’s perfect. So perfect, in fact, that Lavona sometimes finds herself wavering in her single-minded pursuit of Nathan Explosion’s seed. . . .

Only sometimes. But it’s in moments like right now, drinking in the way Trindle’s normally pale face flushes with whole-hearted excitement. Poor girl has never been out of the United States before in her life. There’s a whole world to explore, and she has an enthusiasm for taking it all in that Lavona had lost a long time ago. If things were different, her first instinct might be to protect that spark, to nurture and tend to it until maybe, just maybe, some of it might rub off on and infect her too. 

But they had both agreed. The mission is what matters. Once they all truly become vessels that hold the future, maybe then there will be time, as pregnancy allows, but for now Lavona knows it’s best to remain as dispassionate as possible. 

So she hails them a cab, and they go to a moodily lit bar with blood red walls and unsettling artistic renderings of monsters and zombies on the walls. Trindle says she recognized it from some Anthony Bourdain thing, whoever that was—Lavona doesn’t own a television, so all she gleans from the comment was that the man had died since filming it, which seemed to heighten the appeal somehow. Excited to try everything, Trindle insists on working her way systematically through the drinks menu. It’s a good night. 

They returned to the hotel late, both slightly unsteady on their feet despite Lavona’s attempts to keep her head. Trindle had insisted that she take at least a sip of each with her, and Lavona hadn’t had it in her to say no. 

It’s far from a fancy suite, the group’s finances being mostly directed in other directions. Just a standard room with two double beds. Until tonight Lavona has kept to her own side of the room, but when Trindle tangles their fingers together and hesitantly tugs her to cross the invisible line with a hopeful smile . . . Lavona follows the pull. 

Later, after Trindle had fallen asleep on her side, Lavona sits up in bed and watches the gentle tide of her bosom. The sheets are thin enough that she can make out the heavy black shapes of her tattoos. A stray lock of hair drapes across her cheek, fluttering with every exhale; gently, so as not to wake her, Lavona brushes it back behind her shoulder. 

How odd to think that soon this view will be Nathan’s. She should be jealous of Trindle. She is—and isn’t. She’s jealous of them both, with a fierce ache in her heart and between her legs, but she also feels a peacefulness that she’s never known before. Dispassionate as possible. . . . Well, apparently that had always been relative. Maybe if the silly girl hadn’t mainlined lessons on both Duolingo _and_ Babbel for several months and then surprised her with rough but promising conversational German, Lavona might have stood a chance. 

If she could, she would suspend this final moment of their romantic getaway in amber and wear it like a jewel. 

But Trindle had agreed. 

Lavona leans across to the nightstand between the two beds and retrieves a slim black case from the top drawer. Unzipping it reveals a pre-filled syringe, which gleams in the moonlight as she uncaps and flicks it to make sure there are no air bubbles. One quick injection and Trindle will stay asleep long enough for the next step. 

When it’s done, Lavona leans down and kisses Trindle’s forehead, kisses her closed eyelids, kisses her slack lips. “ _I’m sorry,_ Liebling,” she whispers. “ _Godspeed. The sooner the mission is complete, the sooner we can reunite. I . . . I hope you can forgive me._ ”

Then she dresses and goes to the door that connects their room to the one next door, knocks, waits to hear a reply knock, and opens it. The other four members of Succubosso Explosion file in, dressed in surgical scrubs, pushing a narrow stainless-steel table, and carrying trays of sterilized equipment. 

They had outvoted her on this, arguing that the mission was of the utmost importance. Ever since their initial failure with the Loin Extractor, knowing that an outsider would have to be recruited to infiltrate Mordhaus, most of the group’s budget has gone towards the development of behavior modification technology to ensure success even without the rigorous training they’ve all undergone for years. Trindle is merely a tool; this implant will endow her with a single-minded desire to collect Nathan’s spend as often and as diligently as possible, as well as adding a certain amount of “bimbo-ification” that will put her even further beyond suspicion than her otherwise innocuous history already does. 

It hasn’t been tested on human subjects, there simply wasn’t time. They have one slim window of opportunity, a rare and coveted backstage pass which Trindle will use to approach and ensnare her target. 

All Lavona can do now is hope that the plan will go off without a fucking hitch.


End file.
